


Chasing Dragons

by SupermanIsDead



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-23 19:32:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9672914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SupermanIsDead/pseuds/SupermanIsDead
Summary: Lyra Black is a pure-blood Slytherin who is about to start her sixth-year in Hogwarts. She then slowly falls for a pale, blond boy . . .





	1. I

I was raised by my godparents, Louis and Jean Mason—because my father, Sirius Black, was in prison. My mother, Emily Fawley—had passed away just two years ago.

I was eleven, now, and was waiting for my Hogwarts letter to arrive. I needed it to get out of here. To get out of the misery these walls bore—and away from the meaningless care of my godparents. My father had put them in charge mainly because they were his only friends that weren't tied to any of the Ministry's work.

My mother was a successful potioneer who had a shop in Diagon Alley called ' _Fawley Potions and Ingredients_ '. I wanted to be like my mother—I'd try my best at potions.

I was eating breakfast when the letter came: Louis had been the one to pick up the mail and come back into the dining room, handing me the Hogwarts letter.

I stroked my beautiful black cat, Thane, while opening the parchment with one hand. The purple wax seal had the large letter 'H' on it, and I was ecstatic as I read Professor McGonagall's words in her neat and flowing script.

When I read the list of things I had to get, I was imagining where the Sorting Hat would put me in. I was thinking Ravenclaw because I was easily immersed by books and literature—but some part of me was secretly hoping for Gryffindor. My father was a Gryffindor in _his_ time at Hogwarts.

But my mother was Slytherin—and so was a majority of the Black family. And besides—pure-bloods usually ended up in Slytherin. And to contribute to that argumentative, I was cunning.

I liked to trick the wizard neighbors—and I usually ended up with not many friends. But when I _did_ hang out with my small group—it was as if we would die for each other when caught doing even the silliest things.

They were brilliant.

And I hoped they were also getting their Hogwarts letters.

We could be friends through all those seven years—and then some.

_Dear Ms. L. J. Black,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July._

_Yours sincerely,_  
Minerva McGonagall  
Deputy Headmistress 

Louis wrote the reply letter saying that I'd go to Hogwarts.

"You want to go?" he asked me, unlocking out brown owl's cage.

I grinned widely and nodded. "Absolutely. It's bloody brilliant—I get to see where everyone learned it all. And be a _part_ of the student body."

Louis smiled and gave the owl the parchment he had previously wrote on. He pulled open the window and let the owl soar through the clouds—and out of sight.

"Lyra?" Jean called from somewhere in the house.

"Yes?" I called back.

"Would you like to go to Diagon Alley as a birthday?"

Right. How could I have forgotten? It was the twenty-seventh of July. I was _really_ eleven now.

"We could get you your first wand . . ."

I smiled—even though Jean couldn't have possibly seen the smile. "Alright, then. Diagon Alley it is."

"We'll go later at . . . How's noon?"

"It's perfect."

"Good, then!"

"Is it alright if I went out to play with the neighbors?" I asked.

Louis nodded. "Of course, Lyra darling."

I finished my scrambled eggs and drank a mouthful of water—before heading to the door adjacent to the kitchen counter. I pulled it open, and summer air blasted me in the face. There was the nearly-empty street in front of me, the asphalt still sleek black from lack of cars passing by.

Across the street was a green park with wooden benches fashioned with wrought-iron handles. The underbrush was starting to grow wildflowers—it was time the gardener came out to tend to the plants.

I enjoyed the outside. The humans in this area—which were scarce—were confunded, so it was alright if the wizards and witches such as myself accidentally spoke of the magical world.

Puddlemere, this place was called.

I walked to the house on the right and hopped onto the patio. The floorboards were made of finely-polished oak—and the chairs were made of woven bamboo. The circular table by the side had a glass top and carried a vase of flowers.

I tucked behind my ear a loose strand of blond hair while passing the chairs to the door.

The door before me was like a chocolate bar. I knocked, and not a second later, a girl my age opened the door.

She had the brightest green eyes and hair like ebony. They were tied into two, long plaits—each one brushed over a shoulder.

"Hullo," she said to me.

"Wotcher," I said back. "I got my Hogwarts letter. Did _you_?"

She nodded fiercely. "I was watching the telly when my mum came to me with the parchment."

"I'm so excited, Tina," I said.

Tina smiled widely. "Me, too! I wonder what House I'll be in. My mum was Ravenclaw—my dad Gryffindor. I wish _I'm_ Gryffindor. I can't imagine what it'll be like anywhere else. Besides—I like red." Tina touched her braids. "What about you? Where do you think you'll be?"

I was secretly hoping for Slytherin, but I dared not say it to Tina. Her wishes laid in Gryffindor; mine in Slytherin—if we were to get what we wanted . . .

A Slytherin and a Gryffindor—friends. I barely thought it possible.

So as an asnwer, I gave a shrug.

Tina smiled and pointed behind me. "Shall we take a walk?"

I obliged her.

"Mum, I'm going out with Lyra!" Tina called into the house.

"Alright!" called back another woman.

I considered our friendship as the kind that existed purely because it did. There were no elements to the connection—no _love_. Yet I wasn't entirely sure that she knew I didn't like her as much.

Hogwarts. Hogwarts would sort out all the discomfort to something tolerable. I'd be in a rivaling House from Tina; and I'd only have to see Louis and Jean once a year.

The thing about Louis and Jean was that . . . I knew my _true_ parents, and ever since I fell into their care, they've tried to imitate my parents ways. I knew they meant well to make me feel like I didn't have to break myself in again with the new family—but it was hard to even feel _happy_.

Harry Potter thought he was all grieve and sorrow—but he was savored the pain of knowing who Lily and James were.

Harry Potter—had long beseeched his own losses.

My father was coming back home—I knew that. He was coming back from the malefic Azkaban. He and I would be a happy family . . .

But if my father came home and was proven innocent . . . Harry would need to stay with us. He was, after all, my father's godson.

I was hoping that Harry would be a nice person if this _did_ happen.

"Are you going to Diagon Alley soon?" Tina asked.

I nodded. "Later at noon, really."

"That's brilliant," Tina said. "Could I come with you?"

I almost stumbled through a bush. "S-sure," I stuttered out. "But wouldn't you rather go with your parents for your first experience?"

Tina lit up. "We could _all_ go together!" She twirled on the spot, and her light blue dress fanned out as she did so.

"That sounds brilliant," I said, growing more unsure by the second.

Whatever—September the first. September the first and all my problems would be—solved. Hopefully.

Tina and I sat on the grass, facing our two houses which had fine architecture—just like modern Victorian houses.

" _Perfect_!" Tina squealed.

Oh yes—she definitely _didn't_ know that I loathed her.

"I'm looking forward most to the wand."

Tina lay on her back, staring at the tree above her. "I wish I get a good one."

"What's your definition of 'good'?"

"I don't know . . . Not something people would laugh at . . . Something ridiculous . . ."

"I don't think ridiculous wands exist," I commented. "And I don't think people would care about what your wand would be as long as you _have_ a wand and _can_ do magic. It wouldn't be funny if you were a squib."

"True," Tina said. "I'm also looking forward to Herbology. You?"

"Quidditch," I said. "But that's for our second year. So I guess Potions and Transfiguration."

Tina scrunched her nose. "How could you be looking forward to _Potions_? Especially with that Snape teaching us. I heard he's monotonic."

"Where did you learn that?"

"Olivia."

Olivia was Tina's older sister, who was on her third year at Hogwarts. Olivia was a prefect—in Ravenclaw, too. Tina had always been boasting about how Olivia was the smartest in her year.

"Quidditch . . ." Tina said. "What position do you think you'd do well in?"

"I don't know . . . I could be a Chaser." I considered it. Rookie Quidditch games with the other wizard neighbors had proven me to be quite excellent with the Quaffle and scoring. "But I might try Seeker as well . . . I like just sitting there with literally _one_ task ahead of me . . ."

"That's true . . . I think the Seekers have the most leisurely job, but the most important one."

"Definitely."

"Happy birthday, by the way," Tina said suddenly.

"Thanks."

"I think I'll get you a present later in Diagon Alley."

"You don't have to . . ."

"But I insist," Tina said. "I'll get you a . . . a . . . something useful for your time in Hogwarts."

Alright, then . . .

A few boys were running aimlessly past us, fists raised in the air—clutching to a piece of paper.

"I'm going to Hogwarts!" one boy screamed.

They cheered and was out of sight when they turned the bend.

"I just hope there aren't _too_ many people joining Hogwarts all of the same time," Tina said. That was surprising, coming from her. She loved to socialize. She was like a colorful person—while I stayed gray and refused to _be_ colored.

By the center of the park, there were the boys running towards the fountain to sit by the ceramic. They were clutching to their stitches—but they seemed ecstatic.

"I guess now that we would be going to Hogwarts, we'd have to follow their program—no using magic out of school grounds," Tina said.

"That is unless our parents are there to look after us while we do so."

"I know . . . But it seems less fun now that you can't have the excuse of 'I can't control it'."

I smiled half-heartedly and agreed.

"I guess so."

Second year. Second year was when I get to try out in Try Outs.

But as of now, my mind was all in Diagon Alley and what I'd get there.


	2. II

I looked at myself in the mirror and stared back at my gray eyes. I was prepared to go to Diagon Alley, with my casual black dress and slippers.

I wore a metal headband colored bronze with flat decorative flowers on it.

I found Louis and Jean sitting in the living room, sipping tea with Tina's parents. They were so immersed in their conversation about . . . I tried to listen in and caught a few words—like Dumbledore, safety and Hogwarts.

I sat next to Jean.

"Hello, darling. Ready?"

I nodded. Tina was across from me, sitting on the armchair while reading her school requirements' list.

"Floo powder?" Louis offered Tina's parents. "Or would you like to disapparate?"

"Floo powder would be nice, Louis," Tina's mother said. She looked exactly like Tina. Dark hair; green eyes—if they were to be the same age, it would be difficult to tell them apart.

Louis walked over to the fireplace—which wasn't lit—and lifted a pot from next to the pokers. "Who'd like to go first?"

"Me!" Tina said enthusiastically.

Louis gave her the pot. Tina took a handful of floo powder and entered the grate.

"Diagon Alley!" she yelled—before throwing the floo onto the fireplace floor. Green flames rose around her and she was gone not a second later.

"Lyra," Louis called. "Go on."

I disliked traveling with floo. It made my clothes dirty with soot and ash. What I loved was apparaition. Jean and Louis would take me to places with that method. Even though it felt like all my bones were being crushed—it was better than getting dirty.

I grasped a handful of the powder and stepped onto the grate. "Diagon Alley!" And threw the powder to the floor.

I was immediately shot up into the sky—which seemed nothing like the supposed morning canvas—before going down; down; down.

My feet hit the ground and I looked out the brick walls. I was in the Leaky Cauldron. I made it. In front of me was Tina—I didn't notice her in the first place.

I quickly stepped out of the fireplace knowing that there would be more people coming in.

"We're here . . ." Tina said. " _Actually_ here!"

I shrugged. "Yes—now I guess we'll be finding our things."

Tina's parents came next, and after them, Louis and Jean.

"Where would you kids like to go first?" Louis asked. "Wands?"

"Wands are last. Save the best one," I said. "I'd like to get a cauldron so we have something to carry our stuff in."

Tina's father raised his eyebrows. "I like the way you think."

I grinned.

"So cauldrons first, then?" Louis said.

We passed through the brick wall and met a large crowd of witches and wizards walking up and down the narrow street of Diagon Alley. Some were even in their Hogwarts robes and pointy hats.

"What cauldron did you need, girls?" Louis asked.

"Pewter, size two."

We got those easily, and went over to the adjacent store for uniforms. I was being fitted when Tina spoke to me.

"Do you think there would be bullies? I don't think Hogwarts allow mean people there . . ."

"I mean . . . You-Know-Who was from there," I said.

Tina's eyes grew wide. "Right—how could I forget. But—I mean . . . After You-Know-Who—you'd think that there wouldn't be bad people, right? Because of their paranoia."

"I . . . Don't know. Because there's still Slytherin House, and almost everyone in Slytherin are evil."

"If you become Slytherin—promise me you won't be a mean person."

"I can't promise that; you know what I do to the younger neighbors."

I teased them. I did—until they'd come running to their houses with a red, blotchy face and tears streaming out of their eyes like waterfalls. It was cruel—I know—but it was . . .

"All done!" Madam Malkin said as she used her wand to stitch up the last of the parts that _needed_ stitching.

She pulled the robe over my head and added it to the counter—where everything else already was. Madam Malkin neatly folded the garments and gave it to me and Tina.

Louis and Tina's mother paid for the things and we were out of there, placing our clothes at the bottom of our cauldrons.

* * *

We were finished with everything _but_ the wand. We needed the wands. So, with nervous steps, Tina and I entered the old man's shop, where wand boxes lined the walls and the floors.

"Mr. Ollivander?" I called.

Tina was next to me, looking at a wand box.

Mr. Ollivander was presumably older than Dumbledore himself.

I don't know—he looked the part.

"Here for wands?" Ollivander asked. "First time, isn't it?"

Tina and I nodded.

"Lyra Black . . . And Tina Ellis . . ." Ollivander said. "Who wants to start first?"

I gestured at Tina, who smiled widely.

Measuring tape wrapped itself around Tina, and Ollivander searched his stock for a perfect wand match.

"Fir, ten inches precisely, unicorn hair, swishy."

It took Tina seven wands before she found her perfect match.

Rowan, eleven and three-quarter inches, unicorn hair, and brittle flexibility.

Tina waited by the side as Ollivander tended to me.

Measuring tapes flew to me and a quill was scribbling onto a piece of parchment. When the magical objects finished its work, Ollivander read the notes while tapping a few wand boxes. He pulled out four, and placed them on the table in front of me. Opening one, he presented it to me.

"Alder wood, twelve and a half inches, dragon heartstring. Brittle flexibility."

I took out the wooden stick and gave it a wave. The room twisted and blurred before returning to normal—but not without a huge mess.

Ollivander pulled the wand out of my hands before moving on to the next box. "Ash wood, unicorn hair, eleven inches precisely. Stiff."

Something combusted behind Ollivander when I touched it. Merely touched it.

The next box was opened. "Red oak, twelve and a quarter inches, dragon heartstring. Brittle flexibility."

The candles melted and the saucers burst into ashes. It was like seeing a phoenix when they came back to their original figures.

The last box contained, "Laurel, twelve inches precisely, dragon heartstring. Surprisingly swishy."

I picked it up—only to have the stack of boxes by my side fall to the ground, tumbling.

"Nope!" Ollivander said, plucking out the wand.

He went to the back and skimmed the many boxes. He was about to take one—before pulling out the one next to it. The box was black.

Ollivander came back to the table. "Blackthorn, twelve and a half inches, phoenix feather. Surprisingly swishy." He opened the box and revealed the slim wand, which was as black as the box. On the lower half of the wand was a spiral carved onto it, curling up to a quarter of the wand. I liked it—there were no 'handles'. Just the wand itself.

I took it and it felt warm in my hand. There were no accidents happening in the shop, so I realized that this was the one. _The_ one.

"Blackthorn . . ." Ollivander breathed.

"What's wrong with it?" I asked, almost panicking.

"Nothing, nothing. Blackthorn is for those who uses defense spells. That and offense spells. You could be an auror with this wand, especially when paired with phoenix feather." He scratched his jaw. "But not only aurors use this wand. I know many Death Eaters with Blackthorn. Make sure you go the right path, Ms. Black."

I nodded, paid for my wand, and was out of the shop with Tina within another second.

Death Eaters. What if I became a Death Eater? What if I was blinded by all the darkness in me that I would even think to join the Dark Army? To join Vol . . .

To join Voldemort.

I knew that was impossible . . . It was impossible.

Yes—yes it was simply impossible.

But what if it _was_ . . . ?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why do I keep writing _Tina_ as _Tuna_ or _Tian_? Haha.

**Author's Note:**

> That was a short chapter. I mean . . . for me. I don't know about all of you. Is it the perfect length? No? Maybe? First fanfic?
> 
> It's my first fanfic . . .
> 
> Hope you guys like it—
> 
> And don't mind my unprofessional-ness on fanfiction. I can never pull off a fanfic. This is like, a new experience for me.
> 
> Hope you guys like it, and do take note that I am writing about a doubtful character that is trying to come off the surface of a friendless life.
> 
> And this is about falling in love with Draco Malfoy, as well. So . . .
> 
> Tee-hee.
> 
> Why is a raven like a writing desk?
> 
> WHO KNOWS?
> 
> I do not know why I just did that.
> 
> ANYWAYS. I'll be trying my best to post every single day (24 hours—I know I'm INSANE).
> 
> Thank you, and enjoy!


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